I'm worried about Alexandra, Dr. Templeton. Her depression seems to be worse. She keeps talking about drowning. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to her.
It had sounded to Peter Templeton like a classic setup for murder—except that George Mellis was the heir to a large fortune of his own. There would be no reason for him to kill anyone for money. You're imagining things, Peter chided himself.
A woman was drowning in the cold sea, and he was trying to swim to her side, but the waves were too high, and she kept sinking under them and rising again. Hold on, he shouted. I'm coming. He tried to swim faster, but bis arms and legs seemed leaden, and he watched as she went down again. When he reached the place where she had disappeared, he looked around and saw an enormous white shark bearing down on him. Peter Templeton woke up. He turned on the lights and sat up in bed, thinking about his dream.
Early the following morning, he telephoned Detective Lieutenant Nick Pappas.
Nick Pappas was a huge man, six feet four inches and weighing almost three hundred pounds. As any number of criminals could testify, not an ounce of it was fat. Lieutenant Pappas was with the homicide task force in the "silk stocking" district in Manhattan. Peter had met him several years earlier while testifying as a psychiatric expert in a murder trial, and he and Pappas had become friends. Pappas's passion was chess, and the two met once a month to play.
Nick answered the phone. "Homicide. Pappas."
"It's Peter, Nick."
"My friend! How go the mysteries of the mind?"
"Still trying to unravel them, Nick. How's Tina?"
"Fantastic. What can I do for you?"
"I need some information. Do you still have connections in Greece?"
"Do I!" Pappas moaned. "I got a hundred relatives over there, and they all need money. The stupid part is I send it to them. Maybe you oughta analyze me."
'Too late," Peter told him. "You're a hopeless case."
'That's what Tina keeps telling me. What information do you need?"
"Have you ever heard of George Mellis?"
"The food family?"
"Yes."
"He's not exactly on my beat, but I know who he is. What about him?"
"I'd like to know if he has any money."
"You must be kiddin'. His family—"
"I mean money of his own."
"I'll check it out, Peter, but it'll be a waste of time. The Mel-lises are rich-rich."
"By the way, if you have anyone question George Mellis's father, tell him to handle it gently. The old man's had several heart attacks."
"Okay. I'll put it out on the wire."
Peter remembered the dream. "Nick, would you mind making a telephone call instead? Today?"
There was a different note in Pappas's voice. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Peter?"
'There's nothing to tell. I just want to satisfy my curiosity. Charge the phone call to me."
"Damn right I will—and the dinner you're gonna buy me when you tell me what the fuck this is all about."
"Deal." Peter Templeton hung up. He felt a little better.
Kate Blackwell was not feeling well. She was at her desk talking on the telephone when she felt the sudden attack. The room started to spin, and she gripped her desk tightly until everything righted itself again.
Brad came into the office. He took one look at her pale face and asked, "Are you all right, Kate?"
She let go of the desk. "Just a little dizzy spell. Nothing important"
"How long since you've had a medical checkup?"
"I don't have time for that nonsense, Brad."
"Find time. I'm going to have Annette call and make an appointment for you with John Harley."
"Bloody hell, Brad. Stop fussing, will you please?"
"Will you go see him?"
"If it will get you off my back."
The following morning Peter Templeton's secretary said, "Detective Pappas is calling on line one."
Peter picked up the phone. "Hello, Nick." "I think you and I better have a little talk, my friend." Peter felt a sudden anxiety stirring in him. "Did you talk to someone about Mellis?"
"I talked to Old Man Mellis himself. First of all, he's never had a heart attack in his life, and second, he said as far as he's concerned, his son George is dead. He cut him off without a dime a few years ago. When I asked why, the old man hung up on me. Then I called one of my old buddies at headquarters in Athens. Your George Mellis is a real beauty. The police know him well. He gets his kicks beating up girls and boys. His last victim before he left Greece was a fifteen-year-old male prosti-tute. They found his body in a hotel, and tied him in with Mellis. The old man bought somebody off, and Georgie boy got his ass kicked out of Greece. For good. Does that satisfy you?" It did more than satisfy Peter, it terrified him. "Thanks, Nick. I owe you one."
"Oh, no, pal. I think I'd like to collect on this one. If your boy's on the loose again, you'd better tell me."
"I will as soon as I can, Nick. Give my love to Tina." And Peter hung up. He had a lot to think about. George Mellis was coming in at noon.
Dr. John Harley was in the middle of an examination when his receptionist said, "Mrs. George Mellis is here to see you, Doctor. She has no appointment, and I told her your schedule is—"
John Harley said, "Bring her in the side door and put her in my office."
Her face was paler than the last time, and the shadows under her eyes were darker. "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, John, but—"
'That's all right, Alexandra. What's the problem?"
"Everything. I—I feel awful."
"Have you been taking the Wellbutrin regularly?"
"Yes."
"And you still feel depressed?"
Her hands were clenched. "It's worse than depression. It's - I feel desperate. I feel as though I have no control over anything anymore. I can't stand myself. I'm afraid I'm—I'm going to do something terrible."
Dr. Harley said reassuringly, "There's nothing physically wrong with you. I'll stake my reputation on that. It's all emo-tional. Fm going to switch you to another drug, Nomifensine. It's very effective. You should notice a change within a few days." He wrote out a prescription and handed it to her. "If you don't feel better by Friday, I want you to call me. I may want to send you to a psychiatrist."
Thirty minutes later, back in her apartment, Eve removed the pale foundation cream from her face and wiped away the smudges under her eyes.
The pace was quickening.
George Mellis sat opposite Peter Templeton, smiling and confident.
"How are you feeling today?"
"Much better, Doctor. These few sessions we've had have helped more than you know."
"Have they? In what way?"
"Oh, just having someone to talk to. That's the principle the Catholic Church is built on, isn't it? Confession?"
"I'm glad you feel the sessions have been helpful. Is your wife feeling better?"
George frowned. "I'm afraid not. She saw Dr. Harley again, but she's talking about suicide more and more. I may take her away somewhere. I think she needs a change."
It seemed to Peter that there was an ominous foreboding in those words. Could it be his imagination?
"Greece is a very relaxing place," Peter said casually. "Have you taken her there to meet your family?"
"Not yet. They're dying to meet Alex." He grinned. "The only problem is that every time Pop and I get together, he keeps trying to talk me into coming back and taking over the family business."
And at that moment, Peter knew that Alexandra Mellis was in real danger.
Long after George Mellis had left, Peter Templeton sat in his office going over his notes. Finally, he reached for the telephone and dialed a number.
"I want you to do me a favor, John. Can you find out where George Mellis took his wife on their honeymoon?"
"I can tell you right now. I gave them some shots before they left. They went to Jamaica."
I have a frie
nd who beats up whores.... I remember once we were in Jamaica together. This little black whore took him up to a hotel room, and after she got his pants off, she told him she wanted more money. ...He beat the shit out of her. I'll bet she won't try that on anyone again.
Still, there was no proof that George Mellis was planning to kill his wife. John Harley had verified that Alexandra Mellis was suicidal. It's not my problem, Peter tried to tell himself. But he knew it was his problem.
Peter Templeton had had to work his way through school. His father had been the caretaker of a college in a small town in Nebraska, and even with a scholarship, Peter had not been able to afford to go to one of the Ivy League medical schools. He had been graduated from the University of Nebraska with honors and had gone on to study psychiatry. He had been successful from the start. His secret was that he genuinely liked people; he cared what happened to them. Alexandra Mellis was not a patient, yet he was involved with her. She was a missing part of the puzzle, and meeting her face-to-face might help him solve it. He took out George Mellis's file, found his home number and telephoned Alexandra Mellis. A maid summoned her to the phone.
"Mrs. Mellis, my name is Peter Templeton. I'm—"
"Oh, I know who you are, Doctor. George has told me about you."
Peter was surprised. He would have bet that George Mellis would not have mentioned hitn to his wife. "I wondered if we could meet. Perhaps lunch?"
"Is it about George? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing. I just thought we might have a talk."
"Yes, certainly, Dr. Templeton."
They made an appointment for the following day.
They were seated at a corner table at La Grenouille. From the moment Alexandra had walked into the restaurant, Peter had been unable to take his eyes off her. She was dressed simply in a white skirt and blouse that showed off her figure, and she wore a single strand of pearls around her neck. Peter looked for signs of the tiredness and depression Dr. Harley had mentioned. There! were none. If Alexandra was aware of Peter's stare, she gave no sign of it.
"My husband is all right, isn't he, Dr. Templeton?"
"Yes." This was going to be much more difficult than Peter had anticipated. He was walking a very fine line. He had no right to violate the sanctity of the doctor-patient relationship, yet at the same time he felt that Alexandra Mellis must be warned.
After they had ordered, Peter said, "Did your husband tell you why he's seeing me, Mrs. Mellis?"
"Yes. He's been under a great strain lately. His partners at the
brokerage firm where he works put most of the responsibility on his shoulders. George is very conscientious, as you probably know, Doctor."
It was incredible. She was completely unaware of the attack on her sister. Why had no one told her?
"George told me how much better he felt having someone he could discuss his problems with." She gave Peter a grateful smile. "I'm very pleased that you're helping him."
She was so innocent! She obviously idolized her husband. What Peter had to say could destroy her. How could he inform her that her husband was a psychopath who had murdered a young male prostitute, who had been banished by his family land who had brutally assaulted her sister? Yet, how could he not?
"It must be very satisfying being a psychiatrist," Alexandra went on. "You're able to help so many people."
"Sometimes we can," Peter said carefully. "Sometimes we cant.
The food arrived. They talked as they ate, and there was an easy rapport between them. Peter found himself enchanted by her. He suddenly became uncomfortably aware that he was envious of George Mellis.
"I'm enjoying this luncheon very much," Alexandra finally said, "but you wanted to see me for a reason, didn't you, Dr. Templeton?"
The moment of truth had arrived.
"As a matter of fact, yes. I—"
Peter stopped. His next words could shatter her life. He had come to this luncheon determined to tell her of his suspicions and suggest that her husband be put in an institution. Now that he had met Alexandra, he found it was not so simple. He thought again of George Mellis's words: She's not any better. It's the suicidal thing that worries me. Peter thought he had never seen a happier, more normal person. Was that a result of the medication she was taking? At least he could ask her about that. He said, "John Harley told me that you're taking—"
And George Mellis's voice boomed out. 'There you are, dar-ling! I called the house and they told me you'd be here." He turned to Peter. "Nice to see you, Dr. Templeton. May I join you?"
And the opportunity vanished.
"Why did he want to meet Alex?" Eve demanded.
"I haven't the slightest idea," George said. "Thank God she left a message where she would be in case I wanted her. With Peter Templeton, for Christ's sake! I got over there fast!"
"I don't like it."
"Believe me, there was no harm done. I questioned her afterward, and she told me they didn't discuss anything in particular."
"I think we'd better move up our plan."
George Mellis felt an almost sexual thrill at her words. He had been waiting so long for this moment. "When?"
"Now."
The dizzy spells were getting worse, and things were beginning to blur in Kate's mind. She would sit at her desk considering a proposed merger and suddenly realize the merger had taken place ten years earlier. It frightened her. She finally decided to take Brad Rogers's advice to see John Harley.
It had been a long time since Dr. Harley had been able to persuade Kate Blackwell to have a checkup, and he took full advantage of her visit. He examined her thoroughly, and when he finished he asked her to wait for him in his office. John Harley was disturbed. Kate Blackwell was remarkably alert for her age, but there were disquieting signs. There was a definite hardening of the arteries, which would account for her occasional dizziness and weakened memory. She should have retired years ago, and yet she hung on tenaciously, unwilling to give the reins to anyone else. Who am I to talk? he thought. I should have retired ages ago.
Now, with the results of the examination in front of him, John Harley said, "I wish I were in your condition, Kate."
"Cut the soft-soap, John. What's my problem?"
"Age, mostly. There's a little hardening of the arteries, and—"
"Arteriosclerosis?"
"Oh. Is that the medical term for it?" Dr. Harley asked. "Whatever it is, you've got it."
"How bad is it?"
"For your age, I'd say it was pretty normal. These things are all relative."
"Can you give me something to stop these bloody dizzy spells? I hate fainting in front of a roomful of men. It looks bad for my sex."
He nodded. "I don't think that will be any problem. When are you going to retire, Kate?"
"When I have a great-grandson to take over the business."
The two old friends who had known each other for so many years sized each other up across the desk. John Harley had not always agreed with Kate, but he had always admired her courage.
As though reading his mind, Kate sighed, "Do you know one of the great disappointments of my life, John? Eve. I really cared for that child. I wanted to give her the world, but she never gave a damn about anyone but herself."
"You're wrong, Kate. Eve cares a great deal about you."
"Like bloody hell she does."
"I'm in a position to know. Recently she"—he had to choose his words carefully—"suffered a terrible accident. She almost died."
Kate felt her heart lurch. "Why—why didn't you tell me?"
"She wouldn't let me. She was so concerned you would be worried that she made me swear not to say a word."
"Oh, my God." It was an agonized whisper. "Is—is she all right?" Kate's voice was hoarse.
"She's fine now."
Kate sat, staring into space. "Thank you for telling me, John. Thank you."
"I'll write out a prescription for those pills." When he finished writing the prescription, he looked up. Kate Blackw
ell had left.
* * *
Eve opened the door and stared unbelievingly. Her grandmother was standing there, stiff and straight as always, allowing no sign of frailty to show.
"May I come in?" Kate asked.
Eve stepped aside, unable to take in what was happening. "Of course."
Kate walked in and looked around the small apartment, but she made no comment. "May I sit down?"
"I'm sorry. Please do. Forgive me—this is so— Can I get you something? Tea, coffee, anything?"
"No, thank you. Are you well, Eve?"
"Yes, thank you. I'm fine."
"I just came from Dr. John. He told me you had been in a terrible accident."
Eve watched her grandmother cautiously, not sure what was coming. "Yes ..."
"He said you were ... near death. And that you would not allow him to tell me because you didn't want to worry me."
So that was it. Eve was on surer ground now. "Yes, Gran."
"That would indicate to me," Kate's voice was suddenly choked, "that—that you cared."
Eve started to cry from relief. "Of course I care. I've always cared."
And an instant later, Eve was in her grandmother's arms. Kate held Eve very close and pressed her lips to the blond head in her lap. Then she whispered, "I've been such a damned old fool. Can you ever forgive me?" Kate pulled out a linen handkerchief and blew her nose. "I was too hard on you," she declared. "I couldn't bear it if anything had happened to you."
Eve stroked her grandmother's blue-veined hand soothingly and said, "I'm all right, Gran. Everything's fine."
Kate was on her feet, blinking back tears. "We'll have a fresh start, all right?" She pulled Eve up to face her. "I've been stubborn and unbending, like my father. I'm going to make amends for that. The first thing I'm going to do is put you back in my will, where you belong."
What was happening was too good to be true! "I—I don't care about the money. I only care about you."
"You're my heiress—you and Alexandra. You two are all the family I have."
"I'm getting along fine," Eve said, "but if it will make you happy—"
"It will make me very happy, darling. Very happy, indeed. When can you move back into the house?"
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